


The Sun and the Fury

by TheDoeDuchess



Category: American Gods (TV), American Gods - Neil Gaiman
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Drinking, Eventual Smut, Fate & Destiny, Flirting, Multi, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-02-28 13:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18757168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDoeDuchess/pseuds/TheDoeDuchess
Summary: Cassandra Morgan was a simple waitress at a bar in the middle of Indiana. After she meets a man who claims to be a leprechaun, her mundane life changes exponentially and she's pulled into a world that promises answers to questions she seeks.





	1. The Hoard

**Author's Note:**

> season two was....whew! 
> 
> here's something to take the pain away for a while~

Cassandra had worked at Jack's Crocodile Bar for the past nine months, and had lived in Nottamun, Indiana, for over five years. She was a petite, smart-as-a-whip looking woman, and so her biggest problem working in the dive bar was when she had to suss out a handsy customer or work her way through the loud commotion of the late night shift all by herself. So, she kept herself on guard at all times, plastering a customary smile, and wondered whether or not she could deal with another night going home to her quiet, quaint apartment.

Jack, the owner of the fine establishment, and Bianca Winters, her best friend and fellow tip maker, were the only two good things about the place. They were the only two that she could really talk to on a regular basis, besides Mr. Reeds (who was always drunk as a skunk every night he popped in). Outside of that small bubble, Cassandra had no social life. Some days, it was home, work, sleep, and repeat. Others, it's home, work, laundry day, shop, and repeat. She didn't like the days where she had to sleep, but they were necessary.

She mentioned her dreams to Bianca on one particular night, the two just tying their hairs back into ponytails as they readied themselves for the 10PM to 4AM shift. The cool night air didn't alleviate Cassandra's anxiety. Not one bit. But her friend thought it would.

"I saw her, again," Cassandra told her friend, her coiled black hair a tied-up poof behind her. "The woman on the highway."

Bianca scoffed, an unlit cigarette pressed between her pink lips. She was a woman who immigrated from Ireland some time ago, and was a hard ass whose soft spot only laid with Cass. If it wasn't for her, Cassandra had no idea where she'd be right now. Or, rather, she had an idea it would be somewhere else out of her pocket.

"Ah, hell. This shite again? What have I told ya about watching scary movies late at night, Cassie?" The tilt in her accent let Cassandra know that her friend wasn't looking to get into this again, but who else could she talk to?

"Come on, Bianca. Can you please listen to what I'm saying?"

"How can I not?" Bianca sighed, taking a match out from her pocket. "You've been raving about this damned dream for the past two weeks."

"I know, I know. But this time, it was different! I saw more, like...like not just the body. I saw the crash, there was another person dead too! And...and..."

"Well, come on, darling." The white haired woman lit her cig, puffing out a small cloud of white smoke. "Don't leave us in suspense."

"...The raven." Cassandra said. "It was there, too."

Cassandra could feel her friend staring at her, hearing her inhale slowly and then exhale as a stream of smoke left from her lips. Bianca held her tongue for a few beats, and then said, "Cassie, have you been getting enough sleep?"

"Don't fucking patronize me, Bee, please. I'm being serious here!"

"And I am too!" Bianca's loose curls bounced with her laugh, her cynical smirk staying as she continued to smoke. "I mean, what do you want me to say? Gee, Cassandra, my dear friend, maybe this dream of yers isn't a dream after all! It's a...what do you call 'em? Something that starts with a 'p'?"

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "A premonition."

"Yeah! A premonition. Ye keep seein' some random chick dead on a highway with a raven watchin' you because it's a big fat premonition. If I said all of that, would it make you feel any better?"

"I don't know, Bianca," Cassandra said. "I would appreciate it if you took me a little seriously, though."

Bianca's eyes softened. "I _am_ takin' this seriously. I mean...shit, babes, ravens and dead people? You should talk to someone." 

"I'm talking to you, aren't I?" asked Cassandra.

"You know what I mean, Cassandra Morgan."

Cassandra knew what Bianca meant, but she didn't want to talk about it anymore. She shrugged, snatching Bee's cigarette from her freckled hands and takes a long drag before she flicks it out onto the rocky pavement of Jack's parking lot. But what did she need a therapist for? She could handle dreams, she thought. They only started a couple weeks ago. Maybe it was because of some move she watched in the dead of night. The dream will pass. It'll pass, she reasoned.

But, as the weeks went by, the dreams became more frequent. They weren't just about the woman with her chest split open on the highway anymore. Sometimes, she dreams of streams of blood under her toes, warm and sticky underneath the balls of her feet. She dreamt of storms that were never-ending, consisting of rain, then sleet, then snow. She saw battles in her head, men in garbs and donning weapons in hand fighting on fields or in the woods with loud war cries. But. ever consistent, was the damned raven. The raven flew constant in her nightmares, cawing and flying into her sight. Cassandra wrote everything she saw in a notebook she recently purchased, and she was already halfway through.

Cassandra found that her dreams told stories, disjointed and chaotic but she couldn't deny there was some context to them. The only one she couldn't place was the vision of the highway crash. If she were to understand why she was seeing it, maybe it would go away.

"And then what?" Jack asked, the owner of the diner wiping the bar counter clean. Cassandra sat across on the other side, drinking a glass of Guinness to celebrate another night of waiting tables with big tips as a reward. "It'll just go away?"

"All my other dreams do," Cassandra said. "Maybe that one will stop."

"In my experience, kitten, that ain't how dreams work."

Cassandra shrugged, "I figure it's how mine do."

"You know what? Maybe Bianca had a point the other day," Jack pondered. "Maybe you _are_ seeing visions."

"Don't encourage her!" Cassandra heard Bianca cry out from the far side of the diner, mopping the floor. Two men had almost gotten into a brawl before they closed up, and they both ended up vomiting on the floor. Bianca had lost the coin toss and had to mop instead of Cassandra. 

"I'm not encouraging!" Jack said. "I'm just trying to be understanding. She's going through it over here."

Jack had become a mother figure of sorts in Cass's eyes. She remembered the first night she came into the diner, Bianca had just helped her get settled into her apartment and wanted her to work side-by-side at a swank job. Jack excepted her the first night, even though she didn't have a birth certificate or identification on her. She said as long as Bianca vouched for her, she was good for it. "Just as long as you don't bring any guys in here and fuck them in the freezer," Cassandra remembered Jack telling her. "I had a gal who did that. Almost shot both of them in the ass on their way out of here." 

Cassandra believed her, glancing at the weapon behind the counter.

"Sweetheart," Jack leaned over the counter. "You know, there was a lady in Greece way back when who had visions. Had the same name as you, too."

Cassandra nodded. "Yeah, Bianca told me. Said it was one of those funny coincidences."

"Well, think about it this way: nobody believed that poor girl, and a whole city fell because of it. So, jokes on them right?" Cassandra didn't answer, and felt Jack nudge her hand. "Now, I don't know if what you're seeing is real. Or if it's just some things you're seeing because of some gnarly flick you watched. But, if you have the dream again, you need to look further into it. See through the details, kitten. See it through."

That was the one thing Cassandra didn't want to do.

But, she listened, and took off for the night. Before she left, she looked up at the night sky and saw lightning roll through, the dark clouds rumbling overhead soon after. 

"Storm's coming," She told the two women over her shoulder. "Looks real bad."

Bianca made a noise with her teeth, tearing off her apron and throwing it on a table. "Well, shit. At least we got overtime pay ahead of time, right, Jack?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jack scoffed at Bianca. "Get your slacking ass out of her, Bee. And Cassandra!" Cassandra directed her gaze to Jack. The older woman looked worried, clasping her hands together as if she was pleading to Cassandra. "Please get some sleep in, kitten. You've been working overtime for the past month. I'm worried you're not getting enough rest."

Cassandra didn't have the heart to tell Jack she worked overtime to avoid sleep. Instead, Cass told her she would try and left for the night.

* * *

She didn't dream about the woman again that night. 

Instead, she dreamed of a dark place. A place that smelled of metal and rot, drips of water dank around her. She heard the roar of battle cries around her, screams and shouts of agony and grief pounding into her ears. She covered her ears and shouted for it to stop.

And it did.

Cassandra blinked twice, trying to adjust her eyes to the new environment. And then, the room lit up, covered in a cool, white sheen of light. She looked up, further up the cavern, and she saw a large hole that brought the light in. A full moon was shining down on her, blanketing her body with the cold embrace of its light. She looked down, and found herself wearing a white dress. It stopped just above her dark brown knees, her feet wading through a light pool of dark water.

She felt at home, in this place. Exhilarated.

It frightened her.

"What is this place?" She heard herself whisper. It was odd, her voice echoed and bounced through the rocky walls of the cavern. She found herself walking further into the cavern, and her eyes spotted something sparkle not but a few feet away from her. She walked closer, and the light of the moon seemed to move with her. And then, it revealed itself.

" _The Hoard_ ," A voice responded, and the moonlight hit the mountains of gold before her. Cassandra watched in awe as the moonlight was soon replaced with that of the sun, brightening the cavern into a golden brilliance. Cassandra had to shield her eyes, but not for too long. When she opened them again, she gasped at the splendor of the place. Here she was, in this grand, hidden gem of a place. She had a small wonder if it was her presence that brought this place...the "Hoard" to light. She took more steps forward, the water now gone and replaced with slow, growing grass. 

She stopped in front of the first mountain of coin. Her head tilted, noticing that each had an ancient like carving etched into the gold. She reached out, and grabbed a handful. It burned instantly in her hand, making her cry out in pain and releasing it. The sunlight dimmed away, and the moon returned. Whispers echoed around her, making her whip her head around in circles.

" _She's here._ "

" **She's back**."

" _What is she doing here_?"

" **Does she remember**?"

" _No, no, no, she can't...she doesn't..._ "

Numerous small whispers began to grow louder with urgency. Anxiety riddled in their voices, and began to wave over her as she stepped back from the mountain of gold. She looked down, and noticed one gold coin stayed in her hand. She held it tight to her chest, just as she feels a large hand grab her shoulder.

She has no time to scream before she hears a man's voice call her something indistinct. A name, one she understands but at the same time doesn't.

And, then, she woke up.

Cassandra gasped and breathed deeply, darting her eyes around her bedroom in her small apartment. She was in her apartment, thank god. Not where she previously was. She told herself over and over again that it was just a dream, like Bianca and Jack told her. It was just a dream. It was just-

She felt a small, cool object in her left hand. Cassandra was almost too afraid to glance over. But, she dared and stared down at her palm.

There was the gold coin.

She screamed at the same time a loud bout of thunder and lightning went through the dark, morning sky.

* * *

"Okay," Bianca said, inspecting the gold coin in front of Cassandra. "How the fuck did you get this good of a tip?"

Cassandra bit her nails anxiously, snatching the coin back from Bee and shoving it into her pocket. "I didn't get that as a tip from a customer. I grabbed it from...from...one of-"

"One of your dreams? Ah, Cassandra, come on! Stop taking the piss with me again. This joke's starting to get old."

"I'm not messing with you!" Cassandra hissed violently, slamming her tray down on the bar counter. She scared Mr. Leeds awake out of his drunken stupor for a moment, but he went straight back to sleep. "This _actually_ happened! I was in this dark, weird cave, and I saw mountains of gold coins. Mountains, I shit you not! And I grabbed this one, and brought it back!"

"Mountains?" Bianca snorted, writing out her current customer's bill. "You should've grabbed me some!"

"Bianca, I am asking-no, _begging_ you to take me fucking seriously this time! Something strange is happening to me, and if I don't figure this shit out soon, I'm gonna lose my freaking mind!"

 "Jesus Christ, relax, Cassandra!"

"I am relaxed! What I'm _not_ is some shitty best friend who doesn't want to listen to me!"

Bianca slammed her own hands on the counter, waking Mr. Leeds back up again. "So, now I'm shitty?"

"Considering the fact that I may be having a mental crisis as we speak and you're joking about it? Yeah! I'd say you are!"

" _Mental_ -" Bianca stopped herself and sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over her freckle-dotted face. "Lass, I love you. You _know_ that. And I'm very sorry if you think the way that I'm reacting to this isn't the way I should be. But, all I'm saying is that you have to look at the facts. There is no feasible way that you can just grab a coin from your dreams and pull it into the real world! It just doesn't happen."

"Yeah," Cassandra said in a tired voice. "But it happened to me, Bee. It happened to me!"

Mr. Leeds grunted in a low chuckle, "Someone drinks more than me, it seems."

"Shut up, ya old gobshite!" Bianca shouted at the man. "Or I'll make you pay your damn tab right here, _right now_!"

He quickly shut his trap, going back into his gin and tonic.

Cassandra huffed, grabbing her tray back up and shrugging her shoulders. "You know what? Fuck it. Believe me, or don't. I don't even give a shit anymore."

"Cassie, don't be like that! I'm only just-"

"I'm done, Bianca!"

The bell to the front of the ball sounded off, the two whipping their heads over with fake smiles to greet the new customer. But, Cassandra's faded when she looked him over. He was big, taller as the threshold he had to duck down under to saunter through. A cigarette was placed over his blushing right ear, his denim-clad shoulders rolling as he got a look at the bar's surroundings. His copper red hair was styled over his head, almost like a mohawk or a mullet, but not corny looking as he adjusted the suspender strap on his left. He ran a hand over his thick, short beard, and glanced over towards the bar. Cassandra wasn't sure she was breathing in that moment but, when her brown eyes locked with his hazel, she swore she saw them twinkle and shine much like the coins she witnessed in her dream.

He was gone as quickly as he entered, setting up shop at a table on the far right side of the bar.

Cassandra had never seen a man so beautiful in her life.

And he was sitting in her section.

She quickly shook herself out of her stupor, grabbed a prepared shot of tequila from the counter away from a customer, and downed it quickly. "She'll make you another one," Cassandra told an irritated customer, pointing to Bianca. "Fix this man another shot, Bee!"

"Cassandra!"

Cass didn't miss a beat, quickly avoiding her friend and speed walking towards the table where Mr. Tall and Red sat. The closer she got to his table, the more she felt herself bubbling up with excitement. She didn't know why, but she couldn't help but let out a genuine smile when she saw his face tilt up to her arrival. She lifted up in her posture to present herself, and she didn't miss his glinting eyes skirting to look at her cleavage. 

"Good evening," The black haired waitress smiled. "Welcome to Jack's Crocodile Bar. I'm Cassandra, I'll be your server for the evening."

The man smirked. "Seems like my lucky night, then."

Cassandra heard his accent pierce through with just a few words. "Irishman, huh?"

Mr. Tall and Red looked at her with slight surprise, but he nodded after a moment.

"That I am."

"Sorry! My friend, um, Bianca is from there herself. I'm used to hearing the accent by now." Cassandra bit her bottom lip. "She's actually working the bar in the front."

Mr. Tall and Red looked past Cassandra to peer at Bianca, and she could've sworn she saw the tilt in the corner of his lips go into a temporary sneer. "...Ah. She nice?"

"No, she can be a bit of a butt sometimes. But, I still think she's alright," Cassandra joked with a toothy grin. Mr. Tall and Red couldn't help but return the same expression. "Now, what can I get for you, handsome?"

The man paused, licking his lips. "You think I'm handsome?" He asked.

Cassandra only realized what she said too late, and felt her cheeks heat up. "Uh...um...I-I meant...I was..." She stuttered. Mr. Tall and Red laughed heartily, his eyes looking her up and down from her black wedges, her thick thighs & curvy hips, to the low-cut spill of her T-shirt. He was fucking with her, and she played right into his hand. She almost didn't mind, but that cocky wink he sent her made her lips purse up.

"Ah, lass, I'm just messing with you," Mr. Tall and Red said. "No need to get all wrangled up."

Cassandra scoffed. "You treat all the women you talk to like this?"

Mr. Tall and Red moved from sitting back lazily on the cushion of his booth to straightening up and turning his full sitting body towards Cassandra. "Only the pretty ones," He said with full confidence.

The waitress folded her arms, "Who says I'm pretty?"

"I'm saying."

"You know, you got a lot of mouth, Mr...?"

"Sweeney. Mad Sweeney."

Cassandra couldn't help but burst out in laughter, covering her mouth with her hands the moment she started giggling. At least she had a name to call him instead of Tall & Red, but she still called him that in her head. He rolled her eyes at her laughter, leaning back into his seat and sighing. 

"Yeah, sure, laugh it up." He said.

"I'm-I'm sorry! It's just...you're not joking, are you?" Cassandra asked.

He shook his head. Cassandra, at first, didn't believe him. But, considering the ordeal she been going through the past month, it wasn't completely impossible. "Wow." Cassandra tilted her head. "Mad Sweeney." She tested it on her tongue. "You get called that because you're angry all the time or 'cause you can get wild?"

Mad Sweeney shrugged. "Both, most times."

"Ah, I see." 

"Don't believe me?"

"Oh, no. I believe you! Really, I do. You got an honest face."

Sweeney looked more serious at that. "Honest is the last thing I am, darlin'."

"Just because you tell a few lies here and there don't mean you have a lying face," Cassandra reasoned. "It's in your eyes. I think you got a golden heart."

She didn't know why that flew out of her mouth, but she didn't regret saying it. The look he sent her could be attributed to doubt, but she hoped her could see in her eyes that she wasn't playing. His eyes lit up something fierce, a chill travelling through her body, and she could vaguely feel a sense of warmth on her skin. Like sunlight. And something else, something... _familiar_. It tapped at her nerves, almost insistent. She fought it and a wave of nausea coursed through her system. She cleared her throat, looking back down at her notepad and trying to keep her air of hospitality. 

"You alright?" She heard Sweeney ask.

"Oh, yes! I'm fine," Cassandra quickly nodded. "Thank you for asking. What...what did you say you wanted to drink?"

Sweeney's lips went into a tight line. "I didn't say yet, love."

"Oh!" Cassandra lightly tapped her pen over her head. "Sorry, sorry. What would you like, then?"

Sweeney kept his eyes on her for a few more moments, and she wished he would stop and say what he wanted so she could hurry up and go to the bar and get some air just for a minute. "Southern Comfort and Coke."

"Alrighty! Coming right up!"

Cassandra moved to rush away, but felt a hand grabbed her forearm to stop her from leaving. The moment his hand touched her skin, she began to see the vision that had been playing in her mind nearly every night go through her mind again in real time. The highway, the car crash, the dead woman.

 _And that fucking raven_.

She pulled her arm away, feeling her eyes bulk out wildly. She must've looked a mess, Sweeney's brows were knitted tight in concern. She quickly put the pen away and sent him a quick, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry," She tried to cover up her shock. "I-uh...I'm sorry, again. Your drink will be right up. If you need anything else, just ask the nice lady up front for Cassandra Morgan, 'kay? Be back in a flash!"

Sweeney made no movements to stop her as she stumbled away, hearing her muttering vaguely about " _Not again_ " and " _Stupid fucking dreams_ ". He watched her round the corner, fully focused on her, until he felt a strong, firm hand slam down on his shoulder. "What the _fuck_ are you doing here?" Bianca hissed in his ear.

"I could ask you the same fucking thing, _cunt_." Sweeney glared, instead, at the cigarette he retrieved from behind his ear. He took a pack of matches out from his pocket and lit one of them with a swipe over the table. 

"Get your drink and get your ass out of here. Now."

"What's the rush?" Sweeney muttered, lighting his cigarette and taking a long drag. "She'll forget about me come morn'."

Meanwhile, Cassandra was in the kitchen, taking deep breaths and smelling the aromas of beef and chili. She counted backwards from 10 to 1, trying to get the image of the dead woman out of her head once more to get through the night. It was easy to get her out of her mind - she thought about puppies and the rain instead. But that bird, it was relentless. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that dark bird flying towards her. Cawing out to her, almost like it was speaking. She dug deep into her pocket and fished the gold coin back out, inspecting it with a sense of dread.

Was this an omen? Or vision, like Jack said?

It was insane, is what it was.

Here she was, freaking out like a complete weirdo in the kitchen with the cooks giving her odd stares, and she was supposed to be out there working. Jack told Cassandra that she would understand if she needed to take a few nights off, but the younger woman didn't want to give her boss a legitimate reason to send her home for the night.

Slapping a firm hand over her face, Cassandra winced. "Ow! Okay, okay...you got this. You are a waitress. A normal, not-vision-seeing waitress! Just get the man his drink and do your job, Cass. Do your job." Nodding to herself, she brushed the double doors open and began to walk her way to the bar and make Sweeney's drink.

Before she even got the chance to get behind the bar, Bianca held a hand up to stop her. "Bee, move!" Cassandra sighed. "I got tables to take care of."

"Don't bother," Bianca's snowy hair shook with her head. "Already got drinks taken care of. We're switching sides."

Cassandra balked. " _Excuse me_?"

"I know the guy you're serving drinks to, and he is nothing but trouble, you hear me? With a capital 't'." Bianca urgently said, pushing Cassandra over to the left side of the bar. "I already discussed it with Jack. You're on the left, I'm on the right."

"Bianca, what in the hell is wrong with you?!" Cassandra brushed red dotted hands off her shoulders. "He wasn't my only customer!"

"Well, he's mine now. I know him from way back when, before I got to the states. He's a bad tipper and just a bad guy in general."

"Oh, for goodness sakes! You're acting like I'm trying to sleep with the guy!"

"He grabbed your arm, and you looked sick, Cass! I saw you. I thought you was going to pass out!"

"That had nothing to do with him! It was-" Cassandra stopped herself, throwing her hands up in the air in aggravation. "I don't have to explain myself to you, Bianca. You aren't my mother, and you most certainly are not my keeper. Do me a favor and don't talk to me for the rest of the night, 'kay?"

Cassandra stomped away from Bianca and she honored Cassandra's request. Bee didn't speak to her for the rest of the night, but Cassandra did catch her glancing from time to time. She made sure Bianca only saw the small of her back or her heated gaze to get her to quit checking on her. 

She thought about the first night she met Bee, all those years back. Cassandra was a complete wreck. She had no idea where she was, having walked for five miles down a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. Bianca had jumped out of her caravan and shouted at her, asking why the hell she was walking with barely anything on in the pouring rain. Cassandra could barely get two words out, and Bee had her wrangled in her vehicle as fast as she could. Bianca took Cass back to her apartment, and wrapped her in a blanket and got her some hot tea to sip on. They had been best friends ever since. 

Bee was her only friend. And Cassandra was hers.

Cassandra understood the other woman's concern, but all she kept thinking about was Sweeney. And the vision. Why did she see it when he touched her? She couldn't understand it. Was he connected to it, somehow? Did he know the woman? About the accident? About the bird?

She caught herself, breathing deep through her nose. She dove into her orders on the left side of Jack's bar, the crowd getting larger and larger as the night went on. There were so many orders for different drinks and food on the menu, she nearly forgot all about the vision and the raven. Sweeney, however, was not lost in the haze of the rush. Even though she found herself getting swamped with orders, she never lost sight of his copper red hair on the farther right end of the bar. Drinking away at his southern comfort and coke, taking occasional puffs out of his rolled up cig. He had gone through three cigarettes and ten drinks - five being the S.O. & C, the other being large cups of beer. The night was pushing on, and so was his alcohol intake. 

2AM finally rolled around, and the bar was clear. Bianca had already left for the night, and Cassandra helped Jack clear up the mess from the last people that walked out. She stepped outside of the bar and waved goodbye to Jack as the older woman jogged to the right, jumping in her truck and peeling off into the night. Cassandra sighed, jumping to get her skin used to the night air. Maybe she'd take the next day off, drink a little when she got home so that she didn't have to sleep in that night. Turning to go to her small Chevy Impala, she stopped in her tracks at the sight before her.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Cassandra whined.

Sweeney was passed out on the brick wall near the dumpster, a bottle of beer clutched in his left hand while he snored loudly. Cass looked around, seeing no other car around besides her own. Did he get a taxi? A Lyft? Against her better judgement, she tip-toed over and gently rocked Sweeney with a palm on his shoulder. "Sweeney," Cassandra said. "Hey! Wake up. The bar's closed."

The Irishman snorted out his sleep, his bottle rolling from his hand as he looked up at Cass with half-lidded eyes. A small grin stretched across his face. "Hello, _beanna_. You're a sight for sore eyes."

"Umm, hi?" Cassandra smiled lightly, tucking a loose curl from her ponytail behind her ear. "Come on, get up. Where's your ride?"

Sweeney groaned, bones popping as he stumbled to stand up. Cassandra had to place a hand on his stomach to stop him from swaying to far in front of his feet. "Don't...got one." He grumbled. "You could fly me somewhere, hm? On your big, perty wings?"

"Wow, you are still drunk as a skunk. Come on, seriously, do you need a ride home? Where do you live?"

His head tilted further downward to look into her eyes, his face softening as a hand gently touched her face. Cassandra felt lost in his gaze, seeing something along the lines of sadness within them. "...Nowhere." The answer was full of emotion, and his sorrowful face bent down further towards hers. Cass knew this was stupid, the guy was completely drunk. But it felt natural. Weirdly natural. And what was the harm with just one kiss? She nearly leaned up to meet him halfway...

Then he spun around and threw up on the ground behind him.

There was absolutely no way he was in any condition to call a cab or figure out where he lived. To Cassandra, there was only one solution to this late night mess. 

"...Ah, shit."

* * *

Cassandra's foot kicked her apartment door open, light from the hallway pouring into the dark apartment. She struggled to carry Sweeney in with her, his large mass hard to guide through her small threshold. He had passed out on the way there, muttering something in his sleep about someone trying to fight him and chuckling tiredly about boobies. His low groans were still vocal even through his half sleep state, the large man stumbling along with Cassandra until she plopped him down on her large sofa. Luckily for him, it was a pull-out futon. There were some nights when Bianca would either forget her own house key or drink so much that she'd be too incoherent to drive, so Cassandra invested in one. 

"Ah, ah, ah!" Cassandra stopped his boots from settling on her cushions and pulled them off one by one, throwing them to the dark corners of the room along with his dirtied jacket. "No dirt on the futon." She had no trouble adjusting to the darkness, maneuvering around until she found the small living room lamp and switching it on. 

Sweeney's tired eyes winced at the introduction to light, his body quickly curling away from it with a loud whine. 

Cassandra giggled, "Stop being such a baby. I'll turn it off soon." 

"Can soon be now then?" Sweeney grumbled, rubbing his face. He soon turned his body back to see Cassandra taking off her leather jacket, revealing her low-cut sleeveless top to his eyes once again. Even through half-lidded eyes, she could see his renewed interest. "Bringing a 'handsome' stranger into your home late at night for some fun? You didn't seem the type, lass."

Cassandra laughed nervously. "Oh ho, no! Don't get the wrong idea." She took the hair tie that held her pony tail off, shaking her large mane of hair out for show. "You're drunk, and have absolutely no way of getting back to where ever you stay. You're only staying the night, and then you're out of here."

He hummed. "Who's to say I won't try anything while yer asleep, hm?"

"My guard dog would probably maw you to death," Cassandra countered with a sincere, but threatening, smile.

The next thing Sweeney knew, the aforementioned dog had ran up from the other side of the apartment, having been woken up by his owner's arrival. He approached Sweeney's form in the bed and started licking him urgently in the face, whining happily with his tail wagging furiously. Watching this scene unfold, Sweeney laughing softly and holding her hound off with his big hands, had Cassandra completely flabbergasted. The dog barely liked anyone she introduced him to - he even snapped at Bianca a few times when she tried to pet him. He would only let Cassandra touch him.

 _Weird_.

"Fin!" Cassandra called to her Irish Wolfhound. "Fin, get off of him! Come here, boy!"

The hound gave Sweeney one final lick before panting happily over to Cassandra, knocking his large furry head into her stomach while looking at her with huge, brown puppy eyes. Cassandra gave him a few pets, still staring astonished at the smug looking Sweeney.

"Maw me, is that right?" Sweeney quipped. "Looks like your guard dog isn't so good at guarding."

Cassandra pouted. "You're catching him on an off day."

"He looks pretty keen to me." Sweeney grunted while he sat up, patting a hand to his thigh. Fin left her side and trotted over to him, accepting affectionate scratches the red haired man gave. "They would give dogs like these to royalty, you know. Centuries ago. Amazing beasts, they are."

Cassandra blinked. "I didn't know that." 

In truth, she didn't have Fin as a dog for a long time. The dog came to her only but a few months ago, caught drenched in the pouring rain with no home or food and sitting patiently in front of the apartment building. She had offered him a night's sleep and took him to the vet the next morning. Seeing as he had no chip on him, she couldn't help but take him in. Fin seemed like an appropriate name for him, he always loved to swim around in lakes or jump in puddles of water when given the chance. A sweet but protective type. She never thought he'd allow anyone else to pet him until now.

The sparkle in Sweeney's eyes while he pet Fin made Cassandra's heart lift. But, when his hazel eyes drifted back to hers, it was almost like he snapped out of it. The joy in his eyes was replaced with something else. That sad, mournful look again towards her pulling at her nerves again in the worst way. Pushing Fin off of him, the red haired man sighed, attempting to stand.

"Listen, I'm alright. Less boozy, I can get out of here, you don't have to worry about me."

Cassandra shook her head, quickly moving up and pushing him back on the futon. "Nuh uh. Sleep. You can't see it, but you look like a total mess. You can use the shower in the morning and get some food in you before you go." 

"Lass, I don't think-"

"Or I can grab my rope from the closet and tie you up." A wicked grin spread across Sweeney's face, but she quickly pressed a finger to his lips before he could say anything. "No dirty comments! You know what I meant."

Something bloomed in his expression again, his hand grasping hers softly and rubbing his calloused thumb into her skin. His grin didn't fade, but it changed from mirth to nostalgic. He nodded, pressing a small kiss to her wrist and placing both their hands on his chest. "I thank you kindly, _beanna_. From my heart."

Cassandra gently pulled her hand away from his and held it to her pounding chest. "Y-You don't have to do all of that. It's something anyone decent would do."

His eyes gleamed sad, bitter. "Not in my world, love."

"...Who are you?" Cassandra felt the question leave from her lips.

"I told you who I am."

"No, I mean...have we met before? Do you-"

"It doesn't matter." Sweeney yawned, turning his body away from Cassandra's puzzled face and settling in on the futon. "Goodnight, Morgan Cassandra."

Cassandra wanted to say something, ask him another question. Why was he acting familiar to her? Was he a part of her life? The life before Nottamun, Indiana? The one where she couldn't remember anything, not one shred of memory, before she woke up in the middle of nowhere five years prior?

But she couldn't. She was too tired to do it. Or, rather, she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Goodnight, Sweeney," Cassandra responded. Her hand hesitated, but she ended up placing it on the warm skin of his shoulder before walking to her room. She grabbed a spare blanket from her closet and came back into the living room, draping the soft comforter over her guest's already sleeping form. She looked down at Fin, who had taken his place in his dog bed near the corner of the room. Cass went over and knelt down to the big dog, scratching under his chin. 

"Can you do me a favor and watch him, big boy?" Cassandra asked quietly. "Make sure he doesn't leave before breakfast?"

Fin made a cute huff sound, something Cass considered as _yes_.

"Good boy! Go back to sleep."

Cassandra stood back up, taking one last look at Sweeney on the sofa bed before she clicked the lamp light off, plunging the apartment back into the darkness of night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter!
> 
> the fic is basically going to span across the first season of the show. perhaps i shall do one for season two, if people are interested? <.<
> 
> next time: we'll be going back to the bar to introduce cass to another piece in this game of chess: shadow moon


	2. Shadow of a Coin

The dream again.

She didn't get the weird cave of gold this time. She got the other one.

The damn car crash.

It kept playing on a loop, never-ending. Two cars driving on an empty road. One swings into the other. The other car goes flying. Two dead bodies.

One, a man with his eyes bucked wide and terror frozen into his newly deceased body still stuck in the damaged vehicle. The other, a young woman who looked barely 30, her body contorted in the grass a few feet away from the wreck. She was still hanging onto life desperately, gurgling blood and wheezes leaving her mouth as her body twitched and writhed in pain. Cassandra found herself placed in the scene now - she wasn't some hovering spectator of the event. Her bare feet felt the cold gravel of the road, her skin grew goosebumps at the night wind. This was strange, but not as strange as something else she noticed.

 _She's looking at me_ , Cassandra thought.

Indeed, she had locked eyes with the dying woman.

Cassandra could feel the woman's fear, her frantic eyes darting over Cassandra's body. Cassandra couldn't move. Or maybe she didn't want to. What could she do, anyway? This was a dream. A stupid, horrible, realistic dream. Or...was it a dream? It felt so real.

 _Why do I keep coming back to this?_ She thought. _This has nothing to do with me._

But then, something different happened. She heard a car door and looked up. Someone was getting out of the other car, the one that caused the collision in the first place. Cassandra gasped lightly, moving backwards to hide herself in the bushes. If the dead woman could see her, somebody else could. Footsteps drew closer to where she hid, and she saw a tall figure stand over the dying woman's body. Cassandra couldn't tell who it was. Maybe a man? He was wearing a hat over his head. But, what she was able to tell was the dying woman, still staring at where Cassandra was.

The cry of a bird startled Cass, making her peer upward into the trees to spot the raven. The bird that had been plaguing her dreams, whether it be this one or any other one she had. The raven was cawing to the man, almost like it was speaking to him.

"Tell him," The man said, almost angrily. "Tell him it's done."

Cassandra felt her senses heighten, erratic, her hand pressing on her head to relieve the damning pressure. She looked up towards the bird, and her eyes widened. It was looking at her. Its black, beady eyes gleaming to where she was crouched. She swore she heard a whisper the moment it tilted its head towards her. A faint sound, like her own voice, soft yet still audible. _Remember_ , it said. Then, it opened it wings and flew into the sky. The pressure stopped on her head, and she was relieved. 

Cassandra drew her attention back to the man, who now stood over the dying woman. She drew in her final, painful breaths, her green eyes teary and still looking towards Cassandra. Cass could see the moment where the life in that woman's eyes fled. The desperation, the shock, the pain...all gone. Now all that was left was flesh. 

 _I couldn't do anything_ , Cassandra reasoned in her head. _This is a dream. It's not real. There was nothing I could do._

So, why did she feel guilty?

She took a step backwards, wiping the tears that fell from her eyes. But, her foot hit a lone branch that cracked under her body's weight. She cursed with a tiny hiss, "Shit!"

The man in the hat noticed. His head looked towards Cassandra's place in the bushes, and she felt her heart tighten. "Who's there?" He called out. "Show yerself!"

She didn't have time. She did the first thing that came to mind, the only thing.

She fled.

Deeper into the woods, ignoring the feeling of dirt and grime under the balls of her feet. Her breath quickened, her nerves taking over with adrenaline and fear. Cassandra could hear someone else running as well, hard and quick footsteps following her. Chasing her. 

She closed her eyes tight, trying to get herself to wake up. _Wake up, stupid! Wake up, wake up, wake up_ -

She tripped. Of course she tripped. Right over some godforsaken rock.

Her fall was hard, right smack down on her ass. Pain shot to her left leg and she cried out, her hands quickly moving to cradle the injured limb. But, she had no time to look at how bad it was. The man was getting closer, she could see his nearing figure under the moonlight. Cassandra had no choice but to scoot backwards, her back soon landing on the bark of a tree. She looked to either side of her and grabbed a decent sized rock, using the tree as leverage to push herself into standing. She held her hand up ready and aimed, making the figure stop just but a few feet away from her.

"Stay back!" She shouted, her lips trembling. "I mean it, stay where you are!"

"..."

He took a step forward. Cassandra held her hand higher, threatening with her rock. "I mean it! One more step, and you're going to be blind in one eye for the rest of your miserable, fuckin' life!"

"... _Beanna_?"

Cassandra blinked, confused. She heard that name before, from someone. So full of emotion, shock and awe. But...it couldn't be. 

His face was obscured in the fog, but the moonlight showed her, suddenly getting brighter. Her rock fell from her hand in shock. Standing before her was Mad Sweeney himself. 

* * *

Cassandra woke up once again in a state, gasping for air and looking around her room. The daylight poured through from the window, helping her come to a sense of calm and relief. A hand fell to her heaving chest, her eyes closed as she tried to calm herself. She was right, it was simply a dream. Nothing bad happened, she was fine.

But...why was it different that time? Why did she see Sweeney? And that raven, looking at her. What did it mean?

A bark from Fin outside of her bedroom startled her out of her thoughts. Cassandra jumped up, throwing open her door to see the large, shaggy dog standing in front of the doorway with his teeth bared. He consistently barked at the man in front of him, who seemed to be trying to escape from the dog's apartment. With a dirty denim jacket in one hand and an even dirtier pair of boots in the other.

"Hey, hey!" Sweeney shouted, his back towards Cassandra. But she could tell he was aggravated. "Would you move yer furry ass? I'm trying to leave!"

Fin barked again, urgent.

"I don't _care_ what she told you to do! Yer supposed to listen to me, ya mangy mutt!"

Cassandra pursed her lips, folding her arms. Was he...talking to her dog like he understood him? And what did he mean her dog was supposed to listen to him? 

"Damn you, hound! Move, I say, before she wakes up and-"

"And  _what_?"

Sweeney flinched, turning to see Cassandra raising a brow at him in her pajamas - shorts that stopped just at her mid-thigh, and a T-Shirt that simply read 'Jack's Crocodile Bar' in green letters. He smiled awkwardly, waving his jean hand at Cass.

"Mornin', lass. Listen, it's not what it looks like-"

"It looks like you're trying to escape my apartment before I noticed."

Sweeney cleared his throat. "I can explain-"

"Shuddup. Gimme the boots and the jacket."

Sweeney raised a brow, almost surprised. Like he was expecting a different reaction from her. Cassandra held her hand out, beckoning him to come over. "Jacket. Boots. C'mon."

He stood frozen in place until Fin nudged him with his large canine head to move forward. Sweeney walked over and handed her his clothing and shoes.

"Take a shower. You stink. Like a sewer rat."

"B-But-"

"Uh uh! No but's. And I need your other clothes, too. I'll throw 'em in the washing machine, take care of those boots, and then I'll get started on breakfast."

Sweeney stared at her, intently. Like he was searching for something behind her eyes. She could only stare back at him, confused. But then, he nodded hesitantly. A small smile finally graced Cassandra's lips and she directed him into the bathroom, right next to the open kitchen area. Sweeney began to take off his clothing almost immediately, making Cass yelp and quickly shut the door.

"H-Hey!" She said. "Warn me!"

"You said you needed my other clothes!" She could hear his smart ass comment even through the door.

"J-Just throw them out before you jump in the shower, alright? Honestly..."

The smug laughter she heard didn't help the rising heat in her cheeks. Eventually, he threw the rest of his clothes out of the bathroom and shut the door again. Cass went to work after she heard the shower head start - Sweeney's clothes and some of her laundry quickly went to the washing machine down the hall, and she got started on cooking the ham, bacon, and sausage. It had been a while since she'd cook for anyone besides Bianca, and she didn't want the guy leaving out of here without a full stomach. For some reason, it just didn't sit right with her. 30 minutes later, the meat was done and now all she had to worry about was putting the clothes in the dryer and getting started on the eggs and pancakes. The boots were dried from the scrubbing they got afterward.

After getting back from the wash room down the hall, she opened her door expecting Sweeney to still be in the bathroom. What she didn't expect was to see him wrapped up in one of her towels, trying to grab one of the sausages with damp red hair and glistening wet skin.

"Sweeney!" Cassandra took steps and smacked him on his arm. "I'm not finished cooking yet. Don't eat anything!"

 Sweeney frowned, "But I'm starved."

"Haven't you ever heard of patience is a virtue?"

"Plenty of things are a virtue. I'm not the virtuous type."

"Apparently," Cassandra scoffed. It was only then that she realized he was bare chest in front of her, eyes wandering down and tracing the lines of his defined, smooth muscles and abdomen. For a class A weirdo, he cleaned up nice. She looked back up at him, catching his eyes looking at her wickedly. "There's, um...there's a change of clothes on the couch for you. If-If you don't feel like waiting for the ones in the dryer anyway."

"Mmhmm."

"... Your breath smells like mint."

"Aye," He softly said, stepping closer. She took a step back, but sniffed and caught another whiff of his breath.

"Did you use my toothbrush?"

He shrugged. "There was only the one."

"I said take a shower, not brush your teeth. Who brushes their teeth before they eat breakfast? I mean, that kind of defeats the point of having a clean breath and teeth, you get all of that food and gunk in your mouth and then _nothing_  tastes right for the next half hour-"

"Lass."

"What?" Cassandra huffed.

Sweeney grinned, "You gettin' nerves around me again?"

Cassandra blinked rapidly. "Nervous? I'm not nervous! Who's nervous? I am the face of calm right now."

"Then you don't mind me being close?"

"...Not a bit."

The red headed man took another step towards her, and she could feel the heat in his gaze and his body. She swallowed hard, her eyes looking towards his, then his face, and of course his tilted lips. 

"How 'bout now, then?"

Cassandra shook her head. "Nope."

Sweeney took another step, and his chest was nearly on hers, separated by a tiny space between them. His head craned as her lifted up, and her nails gripped into her arms as she folded them. His bright, hazel eyes were searching hers again, she could tell. But what was he looking for? That question from the other night came into her head again.

"You really remember me..." Sweeney muttered, his breath hoarse.

"Why wouldn't I?" Cassandra tilted her head. "We met last night."

"No, I mean..." Sweeney blinked, raising a hand to touch her face. Cassandra instinctively moved away from it, and she caught a twinge of hurt shadow over his face before it disappeared and was replaced with a light from. "Never mind. It's nothing."

"Doesn't sound like nothing to me," Cassandra raised a brow.

"... I'll get changed."

Cassandra watched him move away and back towards the couch to grab the change of clothes, petting Fin along the way. Cassandra unfolded her arms and released the breath she was holding in the moment he disappeared into another room to change. Whenever he got close, she felt... Weird.

Anxious.

Happy.

And she just met the guy! 

_Just what the hell is happening right now?_

That question stayed in her head even through breakfast, her eyes darting to watch Sweeney gorge himself on the eggs, sausage, and pancakes laid out in front of him. Sweeney had since changed back into his dry and clean clothes from the other night, Cassandra telling him he could keep the other clothes since they were over sized for her. She had made him a bowl of fresh cream along with the feast, an odd pairing with the breakfast, and found herself giddy when he drunk the entirety of it.

Fin whined from the side of the table, licking his big jaws with his long, salivating tongue. Sweeney grunted, throwing a piece of bacon the dog's way. Cass narrowed her eyes as she watched her dog feast on the bacon, then glare over at Sweeney. He shrugged, a mouthful of food not stopping the smile on his face. She shook her head, smiling back at him. They got through the food in an hour, Sweeney helping her wash and dry the dishes afterwards. Fin was fast asleep, and she could barely hear Sweeney under his breath call him a "lazy beast".

"He likes to sleep all the time," Cassandra told Sweeney.

"It's 'cause he's old."

"I wouldn't know about that. The vet tells me they can't determine how old he is from his blood work, but he still looks like a young dog."

Sweeney shook his head, "Ah, I meant... He's an old soul, is what I meant."

"Ooooooooh, gotcha," Cassandra snorted, placing the last dry plate into the dish rack. "You know, Sweeney, you say the weirdest shit."

The tall man leaned against the sink, sniffing and wiping his face. "That a bad thing?"

"It's... Well, it's a weird thing. I ask you a question, you never give me a straight answer. You ask me a question, I answer, and then you get this look on your face."

A frown came onto his face. "What look?"

"It's like this sad...look," Cassandra found the words. "Melancholic. Like you're searching for something in my eyes... Seriously, you need to be honest with me. Do you know me? Because you act like you know me."

Sweeney stared at her for a long time, exhaling deeply from his nose. 

"... Do you want to see a coin trick?"

Cassandra scoffed, throwing the dish rag into the sink and walking away from him. "A _coin_ trick? Wow. You are _something_ else, Sweeney! Truly."

"Cassandra-"

"And that is the weird shit I'm talking about! Thank you, Sweeney, for your help with the dishes. But, I think it's time you head home to 'nowhere'. See you around, or whatever."

She strode towards the front door, moving to throw him out once and for all, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her backwards. "Hey! What are you-" The next thing she knew, she was face-to-face with a golden object in Sweeney's calloused hand. Not just any golden object. One she had been acquainted with the night beforehand in her dreams.

In the Hoard.

"Where... Where did you get this?" Her voice wavered.

Cassandra reached out to take the gold coin away from Sweeney, thinking it was the one she had, but he immediately flicked it into the air. She looked up, expecting it to come back down. It never did.

"Where did it go?"

"i sent it away," Sweeney simply said. He reached behind her ear, and he pulled out an identical coin. "And then I brought it back." He let the coin fall into his palm, and he closed it. Only to reveal it gone once again when he opened his palm. Cassandra pulled her arm away from him, her eyes wide.

" _What the hell are you_?"

Sweeney shrugged, the coin that disappeared landing on the ground next to him. "... I'm a leprechaun."

Cassandra blinked once. "... A leprechaun? Bullshit."

"Bull truth."

She saw no hint of a lie in his face. "Aren't you a little... tall to be a leprechaun?"

"'Fraid that's a lie, lass."

"Of course it's not! It's on my freaking Lucky Charms cereal box!" Cassandra shouted in his face. She ran a hand into her hair, taking a couple of deep breaths. "... I can't believe this shit. First the dreams, now this? Fuck! Just... Fuck!"

He grabbed the coin from the floor, and moved closer to her. The mention of the dreams peaked his interest. "What dreams?"

Cassandra shook her head, "The dreams... I've been having these stupid dreams about people I don't know dying, and there's always some raven or crow following me around in them! And, last night, it was the same dream I've been having for months. There's a car accident, two dead people... A woman, lying in grass and blood. A-And last night, you were-!" She finally looked back at Sweeney, and he saw it. 

"Don't look like that."

Cassandra swallowed. "Like what?"

"Like you're afraid of me," Sweeney said. "Don't be afraid of me, _beanna_."

How could she not be? She didn't know what else _to_ be. "Then you need to tell me what's going on. Those dreams... do you know about them? About me?"

He didn't say anything to that, grimacing and clenching his jaw.

"... Fine. I'll ask you something else. Tell me what the Hoard is."

Sweeney's eyes widened. "How do you-"

"I got the same looking coin from that place in my dreams! Here, I'll show you."

Cassandra went to grab her jacket, looking away from Sweeney for only a moment. She pulled out the gold coin she grabbed from her dream, and she was right... It looked just like the coin Sweeney was just fiddling with. She turned around, about to show him the coin and get some answers finally, but the tall self-proclaimed leprechaun was gone. The front door was open, she didn't even hear him leave out of the apartment. Fin had gotten up out of his sleep, whining at the open door with a sad expression.

"Motherfucker..."

* * *

"What do you mean, she's out of town?"

Jack shrugged, handing Cassandra an extra hair tie she had on her arm for the young woman to use. Jack's Crocodile Bar was a busy sight once again late at night, a band of truckers and motor cyclists populating the booths and tables tonight. "I mean Bianca called me this morning and told me she was heading to Wisconsin for a bit. Family emergency, she called it. Told me to let you know."

Cassandra scoffed. "She has my number, Jack. She could've told me herself."

"She wasn't sure if you were still angry at her for yesterday."

"She _still_ could've told me."

Jack raised her hands up in surrender. "Hey, kitten, don't look at me! I'm just the messenger."

Was everyone just set on pissing her off today? Cassandra thanks Jack quickly, pulling her hair up into a ponytail and beginning her night of service. She put on her best smile, but she could feel its tightness on her face. It was hard to fake it - with her morning dine-and-dash with Sweeney, and now Bianca taking an impromptu vacation, Cassandra had no one to really talk to. Or, rather, she didn't have anything interesting happening. It was back to the same old, same old. No excitement. No mystery. Just her job. She figured it's as it should be. Maybe the dreams would stop when she would go back to sleep tonight.

Just as she was lost in her thoughts, she found herself being called over by an older gentleman. "Excuse me! Young lady!"

Cassandra perked up, jogging over to the man's table. The old man's hair was black and grey dusted in it, swept over his head still full and wavy. His eyes were full of mirth and satisfaction, but one looked more... shinier than the other. A glass eye? She'd ask, but Cassandra felt that might've been rude. He wasn't alone, there was another fella sitting across from him. He didn't look as chipper though, his dark brown eyes looking her over. He was the only other person she saw who shared her brown skin in the bar, everyone else pale faced or fair colored. There weren't a lot of black people in Nottamun, Indiana, as it turned out. His clean shaven head shined muted under the bar lights as Cassandra stopped at the mens' table, and under closer inspection, she was right.

He looked like a sad, kicked puppy.

'What can I do for you, gentlemen?" Cass smiled down at the two, noting how the man who appeared upset tried to smile back. It came out more as a grimace.

"I need to take a peek at your bar's inventory," The older man said. "There's a bargain to be set and I need only the best drink prepared."

Cassandra's pen clicked open, and she pulled out her notepad. "Well, sir, here at Jack's we typically don't allow customers behind the counter to prepare drinks. If you would just tell me what you want, I could prepare it for you."

The man grinned impishly at her, looking her up and down. She felt her face twitch in response. Didn't like that one bit.

"My dear, this drink is a _specialty_."

"It's what I'm _paid_ to do, mister."

"Oh, please! Call me Wednesday," Wednesday waved a hand, standing up. In her wedges, she was a head above him, but she felt small looking at his one glass eye. "Mr. Wednesday, to be exact."

Her smile tightened. "Mr. Wednesday, I'm sorry. But here, we have a policy."

"I'm sure your lovely boss wouldn't mind," Wednesday shrugged. "Tell you what... Why don't you keep my partner here company while I make us that drink of ours?"

"Sir, I really don't-"

"Or, better yet, why don't you keep an eye out for that other guy. The, uh... " Wednesday leaned in closer into her ear, so that his table mate didn't hear the rest. "Tall, ginger haired leprechaun. Hmm?"

Cassandra could only look at Wednesday in shock. "I... How do you know about-"

"Details, details," Wednesday laughed, patting her shoulder. "All in good time! Now, my dear, if you'll excuse me..."

Wednesday walked past her an she didn't stop him, her eyes trained straight to where he once stood in awe. He knew Sweeney? No, more importantly... He knew she knew him. What the shit? She never saw this Wednesday a day in her life! What was going on here? Her eyes looked back to Wednesday's companion, his focus trained back to the newspaper on the table. Cass sighed deeply, slumping down into where Wednesday once sat. They sat there, no words. No exchanges. It was odd to her, so she said the first thing that came to mind.

"... Is that guy your dad?"

He looked at her in surprise, but then his face hardened again. "Fuck no."

"Good," Cassandra leaned back. "Then you won't mind me saying that he's super weird."

"No."

"Cool, cool... You guys work together or something?"

He shook his head. "Nope."

"Well, he seems to have a different idea." Cassandra glanced at the newspaper, and she felt her breathing hitch. "Um...can... Can I borrow that newspaper for a sec?"

The man raised a brow. "Why do you need-"

"Please! Just... I need to see it. Please."

He softened at her urgent look, sighing gently. "Sure. Just... Give it back, okay?"

Cassandra nodded, holding her hand out. He picked up the thick paper and handed it over to her, watching her eyes dart across the news story. He thought to himself, Why did she care to look at it? When her eyes finally tore themselves from the paper, they looked glistening. "Her name was Laura Moon..." He heard her trail off, her voice wavering.

"Miss, did... Did you know them?"

"Know them?" Her voice was barely heard in the height of the noises from the other bar patrons, but he caught it. "No, I... No. I thought I did."

She gave him back the newspaper.

"The woman..." The man cleared his throat, his brown eyes looking back at the brown haired young woman's portrait on the newspaper. "She was my wife. She died two days ago."

"Oh my god... She was your wife?" Cassandra asked.

He nodded.

"I'm so sorry... Are you-" She stopped herself. "No, I'm sorry. Of course, you're not okay. That's so terrible."

"... Yeah. It is."

"Are you her only family?" Cassandra asked.

"There's a couple of people we knew," The man said. "My best friend's wife was a friend of hers. I was... I _am_ on my way to the funeral. Got into a lot of complications with the airlines, though."

Cassandra nodded, understanding. "I see. So, how'd you meet that character?" She pointed a thumb towards the bar, watching Wednesday fuck around with her liquor cabinet out of her peripheral. She saw Wednesday's companion bristle, that hard look coming back.

"Met him on the plane. He ended up here, somehow."

"Aaaah! A coincidence."

"... I guess."

Cassandra leaned on the table, a small smile on her face. "You're not one for a lot of words, are you?"

The man chuckled, leaning back. "I talk when I need to."

"Uh huh..." Cassandra got serious again, standing up and coming closer to him. He only looked back up at her, patient. A little confused looking, but patient. "I, umm... I am sorry for your loss. Really, I am."

She noticed his eyes twinkle in the bar lights, brown looking light amber under them. "Thank you..."

"Cassandra," Cassandra held her hand out to shake. "Cassandra Morgan."

He took hers firmly, giving two shakes. "Shadow Moon."

"Shadow Moon," Cassandra repeated. "Cool name. Odd, sure, but cool." She bent down, gesturing over to where Wednesday stood. "So, where'd he get the idea you guys were working together now?"

"He wants me to be his body guard," Shadow explained.

"That old guy?"

"That old guy."

"For what?"

Shadow shrugged, beginning to fiddle with a silver coin that was placed on the table. Cassandra pursed her lips.

"Something non legal?"

"Don't think I can say."

"Okay, then... You said you didn't want to do it. So, what's the problem?"

Shadow palmed the coin and showed it to Cassandra. "We had a coin toss. I lost. And that really shouldn't have happened."

"Why not? Coin toss is fair."

"Not if it's rigged." Shadow moved the coin in position, the metal laying on his thumb that tucked under his index finger. "Heads or tails?"

Cassandra folded her arms, "Heads."

Shadow flicked the coin up in the air, and caught it before it touched the wood of the table. "You see, rigging the game is easy. A 50/50 odd game goes to 100/0 if you know what you're doing..." He opened his hand, revealing that the coin was on tails. He flips it again and, sure enough, it lands on tails. "And I know what I'm doing."

Cassandra scoffed.

"Well, I'll be damned."

Shadow smirked. "Tails. Every fucking time."

He flicks the coin in the air once more, only for someone else's arm to come in between Shadow's hand and the table catching it in mid-air. Cassandra and Shadow's eyes quickly flitted over to see the intruder, but only Cassandra recognized exactly who it was. Mad Sweeney, clad in his denim jacket, white wife beater, and his suspenders. And his eyes moved from staring at Cassandra to looking down at Shadow Moon.

"Coin tricks, is it?" Sweeney asked. He opened his hand and wiggled his fingers. The coin did not drop. Moving his hand, he flicked the magically re-appearing coin into the air, and the two men looked up. Shadow expecting it to come down, Sweeney comically looking up with his mouth fixed open. Cassandra shook her head at him, mouthing "Don't". The tall man simply winked at her. "You're working for our man, then?" Sweeney asked Shadow, 

"Who are you?" Shadow asked him back in response.

"I'm a leprechaun."

"Sweeney!" Cass hissed quietly, grabbing the ginger's arm.

Shadow looked to her, then back to Sweeney. "Okay, you're a little tall for a leprechaun."

"Yeah, that's what I said," Cassandra muttered.

Sweeney sighed through his nose, "That's a stereotype... And represents a very narrow view of the world."

"Sweeney." Cassandra pulled on his arm again, but he didn't budge. "Can I talk to you?"

"In a minute."

" _Now_."

Sweeney looked down at Cassandra, then back towards Shadow. Shadow could only watch questioningly as Cassandra pulled the self-proclaimed leprechaun over to the side, drinking the rest of his whiskey as he watched. Who knew a girl who seemed normal could be with some crazy Irish guy?

Meanwhile, Cassandra put her hands on her hips, glaring up at her recent house guest. "What. The. Fuck? Telling him you're a leprechaun?! And where did you disappear to this morning?"

"Cassandra, I don't have time-"

"Oh, you're gonna _make_ time, Irishman!" She pulled the coin she possessed out of her pocket and shoved it into his hand. "What is the Hoard?"

Sweeney's jaw clenched and he looked away. "Can't tell you."

"Can't tell me, or you won't?"

"Both!"

"Tell me right now! Or... Or I'll..."

"Or you'll what?" His eyes narrowed down at her, and she felt a little less confidant. "You gonna trap me under a rainbow? Or whatever General Mills has that lucky charmed caricature of me and my kind doing? What _exactly_ are you going to do, Morgan Cassandra?"

Cassandra tried a different approach. "I could ask Mr. Wednesday. Seems he's a lot more open than you, for a creepy old guy."

His entire body froze, and she immediately saw the shadow go over his body. He had to grit his words out. "How in the fuck do you know Wednesday?"

"I don't. I just met the guy. But, strangely enough, he knows me."

Sweeney breathed hard, grabbing her shoulders near frantic. She could see it in his hazel eyes too. "What did he say to you? Huh? What were his words?!" He hissed, his voice suddenly hoarse and quiet.

"What are you doing?!" Cassandra whispered back.

"You stay _away_ from him. You here me? _Stay far away_!"

"Sweeney, let go!" Cassandra looked around, hoping no one would notice. "You're acting nuts!"

He let go, but his eyes were glared towards Mr. Wednesday's way near the bar. Then, narrowed at Shadow, who watched them fully now, his hand pressed hard on the table. Like he was stopping himself from getting up. Sweeney looked down at Cassandra's hand, and notice one arm was up towards Shadow. Like she told him not to get up.

"You trust him now, then?" Sweeney scoffed.

"I don't trust _anyone_ ," Cassandra told him, dusting herself off. "If you're going to act like this, and _still_ not tell me shit, don't talk to me. _Ever_."

"Cassandra, please-"

" _Don't. Talk. To me._ I have to do my job, if you don't mind."

And, with that, she stormed off in the opposite direction. She and Wednesday's eyes met as she walked past the bar, and he raised the shot glasses at her in acknowledgement. Again, with that satisfied look. It made her brain tight, her skin heat up. Not in embarrassment. With something akin to anger, but it felt so distant. Not like with Sweeney... _Sweeney, that jerk off. Stop thinking about him, She told herself in her head. He's crazy. A tall, crazy ass man who keeps talking about leprechauns and not telling me anything about what he knows. Forget about him. Don't think about him, and just do your job._

She couldn't forget his devilish looks, and those big hazel eyes that looked at her all too familiar. But she did will herself not to think about him, or Wednesday, or even the oddly named Shadow Moon for about a good fifteen minutes on the clock.

That is, until she heard a commotion towards where the three were sitting at.

It was a chance, of course. Her thoughts fluttered back to Sweeney on a whim, comparing the man she met and cooked breakfast for to the one just right before he left her house. Vague, uncooperative. And then to the man she just experienced. Possessive, tense. Mad. Just like in his name. He had so many layers, but she couldn't help but focus on the good ones. Maybe there was a reason why he wanted her to stay away from Wednesday. To protect her, perhaps? He seemed fully against her ever talking to the old man. And the way he looked at Shadow, simply because she and he were talking and he was looking out for her...

_That doesn't make it right, Cass. You're not fragile._

She wasn't fragile. She could handle whatever it is. And she was going to tell Sweeney this.

That is, until she saw Shadow punched him square in the face.

Sweeney grunted and sniffled, stumbling past her until his hands found purchase on the far wall in the bar. He recovered quick, though, and his nose wasn't bleeding just yet. It was crooked as hell.

"Hey, everybody!" Sweeney shouted, beginning to take off his denim and his dark blue under jackets. He threw them away on a nearby booth, now his torso covered only by his wife beater and his suspenders loose on his shoulders. "There's gonna be a lesson learned!"

_Fuck._

Cassandra ran over to Shadow, silently pleading with a shake of her head. "Whatever he said, it's not worth it," She told him. 

Shadow sighed through his nose angrily. "My wife, Cassandra."

_Double fuck._

"By all means," Cassandra begrudgingly moved to the side and away from the center of the bar, she knew there was no way she was going to stop the fight. Not if Sweeney made the mistake of bringing up a man's dead spouse. But, there had to be something she could do.

"Don't bother, m'dear," Wednesday called to Cassandra, gesturing for her to come over. "Sometimes, they've got to learn."

"Mr. Wednesday, I can't just-"

She heard the hard, colliding thuds from behind her and she turned around. Though, she wish she hadn't. She witnessed Shadow double over in pain but try to swing at Sweeney. He missed, the Irishman moving backwards just in time and dip back forward, punching Shadow hard in the face. He gave the white button-up clad bodyguard no time to get back up, taking a liquor bottle and smashing it on his shaven head. Cassandra yelped, holding a hand to her mouth. There were other layers to Sweeney, and she was seeing yet another negative one. His violence. The tall leprechaun took Shadow into his arms and, with an effort grunt, threw him had across the room into a table. Shadow rolled over it, and fell sideways into the booth in front of the table with a pained shout.

Cassandra looked over to see Jack watching all of this go down, tired and angry that her bar was yet again getting torn up from a bar fight. The young woman then looked back to Wednesday, who merely raised his glass of whiskey at her and took a sip. She bounded over to him, slamming her hands down on the table.

"Are you doing this?"

"Who?" Wednesday pointed to himself. "Me? No! Of course not. _Your_ man wanted to fight _my_ man. Who am I to stop it?"

"Well, tell them to stop!"

"Can't do that." Wednesday picked up a gold coin that was laying on the table. One she knew on sight was a coin that Sweeney owned. "But, per chance... I can even the odds." With a twist of his hand, the coin began to spin on the table.

Cassandra looked back towards the fight and, sure enough, Shadow began to get more licks into Sweeney's body. The Irishman missed his own swipes, the swing of his arms going over Shadow's ducking head. "No fucking way..." Cassandra breathed out. How was Wednesday doing this? Sweeney got the jump on Shadow this time, headbutting him square in his nose and kicking him into the bar. This didn't stop Shadow, not in the slightest. Sweeney punched him in the gut, but Shadow punched him twice into his bearded face. Sweeney went falling down onto the bar, knocking down glasses and bottles before he hit the floor. He rolled back up onto his feet with a panting chuckle.

"Atta boy..." Cassandra heard him speak even through the pain. "Now you're fighting for the joy of it, for the sheer unholy **FUCKING DELIGHT** of it!"

 _Oh sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,_  She thought. _He really is mad._

With a roar, he grabbed Shadow by the waist and charged him back into the bar counter. Cassandra gasped as Shadow elbowed him hard three times into Sweeney's back, gaining back leverage with a swing of Sweeney's large body for them to switch positions. Shadow began to punch Sweeney repeatedly in the face while the Irishman was disoriented, Cassandra feeling tears prickle her eyes as the blood began to pour from Sweeney's face. This didn't seem to faze Sweeney at all - instead, he gave out another roar of battle, laughing just before Shadow punched him one last time.

Cassandra heard a light chuckle coming from Wednesday, and she glared hard at the old man. He stopped, but kept smirking at her.

"Can you feel the joy rising in yer veins like the sap in the springtime?" Cassandra heard Sweeney asked Shadow through his bloody mouth, snickering. 

She looked back at Shadow and Sweeney, who were now both looking toward her. Shadow looked ashamed of himself. Sweeney? He looked as smug as ever, grinning at her with red, bloodied teeth. Shadow pulled back away from Sweeney, breathing heavily and swiping away the blood coming from his nose.

"We're done," He told Sweeney.

Cassandra sighed in relief. "Oh, thank god."

Shadow limped back over to the table, gritting his teeth while he moved. He gave Cassandra a passing glance, almost as if he was saying 'Sorry'. She shook her head, nodding to tell him she got it. The corner of Shadow's mouth quirked a bit, and he reached for the gold coin on the table.

 _Wait... Why was he_ -

Cassandra's train of through was interrupted by Sweeney swinging at Shadow once again, knocking him other into another table.

"Sweeney!" Cassandra shouted, trying to grab his shoulder. "That's enough! Stop!"

He swept her hand off of his arm, his eyes still intent on Shadow.

"It ain't over til' I say it is," He simply said.

Shadow stood back up, looking at Cassandra behind Sweeney. Cassandra gave him a pleading look once more, but she saw that hard glare before. He wasn't listening to her again. Shadow and Sweeney both shouted out roars, ready to punch each other in the face with opposite arms.

Cassandra had enough of the fighting.

"I SAID STOP!"

The lights in the bar flickered suddenly, and Cassandra felt wind under her fingertips. It flowed through her body, this burst of energy and feeling, and she directed it towards the two brawlers with a fierce look in her eyes. Shadow and Sweeney stopped mid-step, their faces shifting from fury and determination to shock and, then, drowsiness. The two men's arms dropped, and they both stood standing for a few more moments. And then, they collapsed onto their knees, dropping to the floor onto their sides. The bar lights returned back to normal, Cassandra's hair tie had popped off with the wind. Her dark brown hair coiled and flowed over her shoulders, breathing deeply and tired all of a sudden. 

Mr. Wednesday clapped, laughing and whistling to break the tense silence.

"Brava!" He chuckled. "Brava, Cassandra Morgan!"

Cassandra came back to herself, no longer embracing the energy. Instead, she looked down at her hands in shock. She looked around. It didn't appear that anyone noticed what just happened except for Mr. Wednesday.

And her.

"What... What did I just do?" Cassandra asked herself.

The wave of sickness came over her again. She groaned, stumbling forward and landing next to Sweeney on her knees.

"Cassie!" She heard Jack run over to her, helping her up. "Oh, kitten, are you alright?"

"I'm... I'm fine."

"She'll be alright, Jack," Mr. Wednesday had since gotten up and had a man help lift an unconscious Shadow up to his feet. "In fact, I think she'll be right as rain in the days to come. The worst part is over, Morgan."

Cassandra blinked, looking back at Wednesday. "I... I..."

"Take the clown with you," Jack nodded her head angrily to Sweeney's sleeping form. "I want both of them out of my bar!"

"Oh, on the contrary," Wednesday smiled. "I didn't bring that gentleman with me tonight. In fact, I believe he's a friend of your waitress's. Am I right, Ms. Morgan?"

Jack looked at Cassandra. "... Kitten? That true? This guy your friend?"

Cassandra looked at Wednesday, eyes narrowed. Then, she looked down at Sweeney and sighed. "Yeah," She grumbled. "I'll get him out of here."

"Sweetheart, he is bad news. I'll have Hugo come and-"

"I got it, Jack. Don't worry."

Cassandra got Sweeney to her car with another bar patron's help, sliding him into the passenger seat of her car. Jack kept asking her if she needed the older woman to drive with them, just so Cass wouldn't be alone with the "violent bastard". Cassandra had to reassure her multiple times that Sweeney wouldn't do anything to her. All she was going to do was get him to an urgent care and peel off. Then, she'd never look or see his face again.

At least, that's what she said.

She wasn't sure if Jack believed her. Hell, Cassandra didn't know if she believed herself. But, she was going to do it. All he had to do was stay asleep and keep his trap shut.

Sweeney snorted awake about five minutes away from the urgent care, taking a look around him. Then, she held his nose in pain, moaning lowly. "Hooooooh... _My fuckin' face_..."

 _Goddammit_.

"Don't move too fast," Cassandra didn't look at him. "You may have a concussion."

"Lass... Believe me when I say I know what a concussion feels like," Sweeney grunted, sitting up in his chair. "I don't got one."

"Oh? Really now?"

She pressed on the breaks hard. 

Sweeney's face knocked into the dashboard... Hard.

"OWW! FUCK!" He cried out, holding his nose once again. "MY **FUCKIN'**  NOSE, CASSANDRA!"

"You got a concussion now?! Huh?!" She shouted, pressing down on the gas once again. He saw her face finally whip towards him, and he knew he fucked up then. Hell hath no fury like a woman, He thought. There was the scorn part, but he negated that for the simple fact that Cassandra was looking the type to commit murder on the spot. And, reflecting on his actions, he couldn't blame her.

"You have to be the most... IDIOTIC leprechaun I have ever met!" Cassandra screeched. "Why in the fuck did you get into a fight with Shadow?!"

Sweeney grunted, opening her glove compartment and grabbing the tissue papers she had stored inside. He shoved them up his nose. "Just wanted to."

"You just wanted to... What are you, on meth? Cocaine? Heroin, perhaps?" Cassandra shook her head. "Know what? Doesn't matter. I'm dropping you off to urgent care, and then I _never_ want to see your face again."

"You can't drop me off that the fuckin' urgent care!"

Cassandra presses on the breaks again, and Sweeney braces his arms this time. "FUCK!" He cradled his left elbow, its impact into the dashboard hurting him.

"Then I can drop your sorry ass here. Get the fuck out of my car!"

Sweeney groaned, panting as he leaned back into the seat. "No, I meant... My wounds will heal on their own."

"You are not Wolverine, and this is _not_ a comic book! Either you start making sense and offer something that won't make me kick you out of this car, or get lost!"

The two breathed quickly and angrily, both glaring at each other. Sweeney bent first, looking away with a loud and aggravated sigh. "Yer questions."

"What about them?"

"... I need a ride to Wisconsin. You drive me there, and I'll answer them. All of them."

Cassandra blinked. "... _All_ of them?"

"Ev'ry last one of 'em."

She turned the ignition to her car off, turning herself fully to look at him. "Nah. You answer four questions _right now_. And then, _maybe_ , I'll drive you to Wisconsin."

Sweeney frowned, but relented. "... Ask yer questions, _beanna_."

"What's the Hoard?"

"It's a place where I stash things," Sweeney shrugged. "And where I can move where ever I please. So long as I have a location in mind... Or a person. Not many can access it."

"But I did. In my dream."

"... Aye." Sweeney didn't meet her eyes then. "That you did."

Cassandra thought about her next question. "Who exactly is Mr. Wednesday?"

Sweeney's scowl deepened. "He's bad news."

"I'm going to need more than that, Sweeney."

"He's a con man," Sweeney held one of his hands to his ribs, sighing painfully. "A charlatan, at most. A liar, at best. He's someone I didn't want you to meet. Let alone get involved with. His man, either."

"What's wrong with Shadow?"

"His dark eyes," Sweeney said. "He's going to get himself into trouble, messing with Wednesday. I was only protecting you. And... And he needed to fight me."

Cassandra didn't press the matter further, but it was something she would put a pin in for her later questionnaire.

"My dreams-"

" _Visions_."

"So, they are visions?"

Sweeney nodded. "Yep. Except... They're not true sight. They're death visions. You can see the deaths of those who have caught yer mind's eye. Usually in the future, or even in the present. Past, too. I can't tell you how you can do it, you just... Can." 

Cassandra felt herself shudder. "Well... That's not fun."

"Never said it was. But, there," Sweeney sighed. "Those were yer four questions. Let's push on the road, then."

"No. That question with Shadow doesn't count."

He snorted. "You said-"

"Answer, or I'm kicking you out."

Sweeney reclined his seat backwards, glaring at Cassandra as he descended. "Fine... _Real_ last question."

Cassandra felt herself hesitate, but her own fear of the unknown wasn't going to stop her.

"Did you know me? Before I woke up in Nottamun? Without my memories... _Five years ago_?"

His copper eyebrows lowered, his eyes softening while he looked out the window. Away from her, into the night sky. The stars were visible that night, the light pollution wasn't as bad in the small town. Elsewhere, he rarely could see the stars. He remembered, years back, when they would run through fields of flowers and lay besides each other. From sunrise to sunset, watching the sun come and the moon and stars replace it. They would look high into the sky and talk of everything. Anything. Home, mostly. How they missed it so.

And how she dazzled and shined underneath the sun. The moon. The stars.

Underneath _him_.

And how it made his heart ache once again.

"Aye, _beanna_... I did."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the road to Winconsin~ 
> 
> But, the two find a hiccup in their journey as Sweeney realizes he's lost a precious object. Meanwhile, Cassandra gets more answers and discovers a new ability. Just who exactly is she, and how does Sweeney know her before her life in Indiana?
> 
> Find out next time!


End file.
